


The Monster in the Castle

by aunt_zelda



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Curses, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Flirting, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Monsters, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28802094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: There is a monster in the castle.Everyone knows that.The reason the monster lives in the castle is because it drives away all the other monsters. The province is kept safe because their monster scares the others away across the sea or up the mountains or down into the swamps.The monster does not do this for free.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Sasha James/Tim Stoker, Sasha James/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 116
Collections: Holly Poly 2020





	The Monster in the Castle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prim_the_Amazing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/gifts).



> There's some Beauty and the Beast in here, as well as my favorite East of the Sun and West of the Moon, and some Tam Lin for good measure. 
> 
> This is definitely the set up for a greater series. I have a lot of ideas about the curses and how they're broken. I hope I'm able to expand this in 2021 into a proper series for you.

There is a monster in the castle. 

Everyone knows that. 

The reason the monster lives in the castle is because it drives away all the other monsters. The province is kept safe because their monster scares the others away across the sea or up the mountains or down into the swamps. 

The monster does not do this for free. The monster demands regular sacrifices. In exchange for keeping the province safe, the people provide sacrifices. 

Most are merely sent to the ritual spot alone, and return shaken and frightened but unharmed, having been questioned ruthlessly by the monster. They often have nightmares afterwards, but they live. 

Sasha is the first sent who does not return. 

Sasha is clever. Sasha is observant. Sasha knows too much gossip and collects secrets to hoard. When the time comes to pick the sacrifice, all her enemies pick Sasha and turn the tide of the vote. 

Tim is angry. Tim is dedicated. Tim has spent years hunting monsters in other provinces. Tim rages and burns a theater by accident, and the community votes to send him to the monster. 

Martin is kind. Martin is quiet. Martin is hated by his mother for looking like his father, for not making friends, for being so accommodating in her anger. His mother sways the crowds and has him sent to the monster with a curse at his back. 

~*~

All three of them remember it the same way. They waited at the meeting place (Tim was bound, Sasha and Martin were not.) The sky grew dark, the shadows lengthened, and the monster arrived. They heard dragging footsteps and panting breath, and a voice that sounded like pain had bidden them “Tell me your story.”

Sasha had spoken of her collection of secrets. Tim had spoken of his brother and the traveling players. Martin had spoken of his mother. 

The monster had listened quietly and, then asked “If you agree to serve me at my home, I will spare the village their tithe for a season. Do you agree?”

Sasha had agreed at once and eagerly. Tim had spat a curse but agreed, defiance covering his fear. Martin had thought of his mother’s harsh words, and the wide lonely world beyond the village, and agreed. 

Then their senses had been numbed and they had woken up in a cold, dark castle with a list of instructions. Rules for safety, tasks to be completed, and locations of useful items. The monster was nowhere to be seen. The last task was underlined twice: sleep in my bed once a week.

~*~

Sasha finds the library first and makes her home there. She busies herself with the list of tasks, of which there are many, such as lighting the fires and fighting the onslaught of persistent vines creeping up the castle walls which grow despite the chilly winter season. 

Three times a day she climbs the winding staircase of the monster’s tower and leaves food and drink for him on a tray outside a locked door. 

On the seventh day Sasha puts on one of the faded gowns from the closet near the laundry chamber, and goes to the monster’s door. The door is no longer locked. The chamber is dark, and her candle snuffs out the moment she crosses the threshold. 

Sasha feels her way across the floor and finds a bed. She was not instructed to arrive naked, or display herself for the monster, so she sits up against the pillows and waits. Sasha doubts the monster means to devour her, but she does not know for certain what monsters do in bed with nearly-maidens. There are some books she’s found in the library that suggest some rather vigorous activities might be about to ensue. 

Another door creaks open. The mattress shifts, and the monster climbs into bed beside her. 

“Good night,” the monster says stiffly. 

“Good night,” Sasha says, confused. 

After some time, the monster starts to shiver as he sleeps. Sasha reaches for him and finds what feels enough like a man’s shoulder and back that she suspects the monster might be more human than not. She strokes his back and holds him when he shifts closer to her. She doubts he is awake, from the steady pace of his breathing. 

By morning the monster is gone and Sasha is alone. She finds a book knife on the pillow, tied with a ribbon. Sasha uses the ribbon in her hair and the knife on some of the more obstinate stuck pages in the tomes in the library she’d set aside. 

~*~

Tim arrives in the spring, bound and bleary-eyed in the kitchen when Sasha rises one morning. She frees him from his bonds with her knife and helps guide him around the shifting corridors, warning him never to open a yellow door. 

At first Tim is obstinate and defiant. When Sasha assures him the monster has never caused her harm, and the weekly visits to his bed leave them both fully clothed, he starts to relax. 

Together they clean and cook and make daily war with the creeping vines that tangle along the castle walls. 

On Tim’s first night with the monster he starts to feel fear. What if the monster does not crave women, but men, and that was what has held his lust at bay until now? Tim thinks of Sasha’s kindness this past week, and the frightened villagers who are spared more tithes this season because of him, and decides to endure whatever he must.

The monster makes no lustful movements towards him in bed. He merely lies down, apparently to sleep. 

Tim strokes a hand over the monster’s chest, dipping lower, wondering if he might find a maw of teeth or a devil’s fork or something else. 

“No, thank you, but no,” the monster says firmly, taking Tim’s wrist and shifting him away. “That is not why you are here.”

“You asked if I would serve you.” Tim says. 

“Yes. But not like that.”

Tim frowns. He knows the monster must have seen his face before. Tim is no braggart, but he knows he is handsome, and has left many people desperate for his touch. 

“Good night,” the monster says firmly, and then his breathing starts to slow. 

Tim falls asleep, mystified by this strange bedfellow. 

By morning, the monster is gone and Tim is alone. He finds a magnifying glass with a ribbon tied around the handle. He uses the ribbon to mend a bootlace and the glass while assisting Sasha in the great library. 

~*~

When Martin arrives in the harvest season, Sasha and Tim have lived in the castle for quite a while already. He feels clumsy and oafish compared to their easy routine movements. They move like dancers who already know their steps. They laugh at jokes that Martin does not understand. 

They are kind of course, showing him around, helping him with the instructions and warning him of the vines, the dark corners, the spiders, the full moon, the yellow door. 

Martin watches as Sasha ascends the staircase for her night with the monster, and then Tim, and then it is his turn. 

As he climbs the stairs, Martin realizes that he is not afraid of the monster. Firstly, Sasha and Tim are both alive and well after some time in his company. Secondly, Martin doubts anything could be worse than the quiet mounting horror of his mother’s hatred for him. Thirdly, Martin has seen the rooms where the monster spends his time, for cleaning and organization duties, and has been struck by the lonely existence the monster has led. 

Martin is prepared for the unnatural darkness room, the soft bed, and the unassuming entrance of the monster.

“I made tea.” Martin says, gesturing to the tray he laid on the side table he felt out in the darkness. 

“Tea?”

“It uh, it helps at night. With sleeping.” Martin blushes and is grateful for the darkness. 

There’s a rustling noise and the sound of the monster finding the tea and drinking it. “Oh. Thank you.”

Martin reaches out for his cup and his hand brushes against the monster’s. It takes Martin a moment to understand that what he’s feeling is a human hand, with an old severe burn scar. He’d held hands with the blacksmith’s apprentice one harvest festival and felt a similar scar on her hand. 

The bed shifts and the monster settles in beside Martin. “Good night.”

“Good night.” Martin finishes his cup of tea and lies down. 

In the morning, the monster is gone and Martin is alone. He finds a key with a ribbon tied around the end. Martin uses the ribbon to tie herbs for drying for tea later, and keeps the key close, wondering where it leads. 

~*~

Martin doesn’t have much time to explore for a while. He, Sasha, and Tim, fight off a rise in the vines that takes much of their energy and attention. 

“I need to teach you how to fight better,” Tim says, after the vines are subdued. “If you’re staying, there’s all sorts you need to be prepared for.”

“You just want to get all close with Martin and put your hands on him.” Sasha teases. 

“Maybe!” Tim grins, posing dramatically. “Can’t blame me for trying?” he winks at Martin. 

Martin blushes and looks at his boots. In the village, nobody as handsome as Tim would have flirted with him like this. It’s a strange, exhilarating feeling. 

“Not if I get there first.” Sasha leads up on tiptoe and gives Martin a peck on the cheek. 

“… oh.” Martin looks from Sasha to Tim in sudden concern. “Is this, are you just making fun of me?”

The startled, sad expressions on their faces make it clear that no, they are not.

“Martin, of course not!” Tim says hurriedly.

“That would be vile!” Sasha says at the same time. 

Martin gulps, wishing he could disappear into the wall.

“Oh, Martin,” Tim wraps an arm around Martin’s shoulders. “Listen, I’m sorry if that was too much. I, I come on strong, I know.”

“I should have asked.” Sasha fiddles with the handle of her knife, biting her lip anxiously. “I just, I got so used to how I am with Tim I didn’t think … I’m sorry.”

“Please, stop.” Martin hides his face in his hands. He can’t stand them both apologizing, because he was an idiot.

“Hey, why don’t we start over?” Tim says. “Let’s get dinner together, and have a chat, about what we like, and what we want?”

“Yes, please,” Martin says. Anything for the conversation to change. 

“I’ll break open that cask of mead.” Sasha says, nodding in determination. 

They get tipsy and cuddly and wake up in each other’s arms, resolved to try something new together. 

~*~

After much exploration and several dead ends – the castle’s halls are always shifting, Sasha and Tim warned Martin – Martin finds the door that the key unlocks. 

It’s another dark room, despite the midday sun streaming through the window in the hallway. 

“If you feel your way along the left wall, you’ll find a fireplace. Light the fire. Please.” The monster says from somewhere deep in the darkness. 

Martin feels his way along the wall and does find a fireplace. After a few attempts he gets a fire lit. A small patch of light emanates from the fireplace, surrounded by the impossible darkness still. 

As the silence drags on, Martin finds a kettle and some cups near the fireplace. “Tea?” he offers, hoping he’s not making a mistake.

“Yes, please.” The monster says. 

Martin makes the tea and reaches out, finding a chair and a table to sit at. He sets the cup down in the darkness and hears the monster drinking. 

“What should I call you?” Martin asks. “I can’t just keep calling you ‘the monster,’ can I?”

“You could.”

“That seems rude.” Martin frowns. “Should I just make up a name?”

“No.” The monster’s voice is firm. “I suppose you could call me the Archivist? It’s accurate, at least.”

Martin’s frown deepens, but he decides to accept that for now. 

“I’m sure you have questions,” the Archivist says. “Ask away.”

“Did you really defeat all those monsters, like the stories say? Or have you just been cursed?” Martin asks, unable to stop himself. It’s a theory Sasha and Tim have floated before to him, wondering if this man lives by reputation alone and thrives on rumors. 

The Archivist sighs. “No, it is true that I have defeated many monsters. But each time I defeated a new kind of monster, they cursed me. I carry thirteen curses: one for each type of monster in the world.” 

Martin shudders at the idea. He’s known of people beset by one curse, and that alone had been more than their bodies could handle for long. Thirteen?

“That is why you may not see me. I bring the darkness not to frighten you, but to protect you.”

Martin frowns. “Is there a way to break the curses?” Curses can always be broken, or so it’s said. Sometimes the way to break them is too dreadful to consider, but still nothing is created without a way of undoing it.

“Yes.” The Archivist’s voice is hoarse. 

“Can you tell me how?”

“If I could, I would have told Sasha when I brought her here, wouldn’t I?” the Archivist snaps. 

Martin winces. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no I’m sorry. I’m just … I’d hoped that Sasha, or Sasha and Tim together, would have found a way by now. And now you’re here as well. I’m being dreadfully selfish, keeping you all imprisoned here.”

“Maybe,” Martin shrugs. “But you don’t want to be lonely. I don’t think that’s selfish. That’s … well that’s just being human.”

The Archivist laughs. “Unfortunate choice of words.”

“I don’t think you’re nearly so dreadful as you say you are.” Martin crosses his arms. “It’s just been so long since anyone saw your face that you’re convinced it’s better to hide away.”

There’s a long and uncomfortable silence. 

“I think you should go back now.” The Archivist says stiffly.

Martin winces again and collects the tea. He pushed too hard, but he couldn’t help it. The Archivist has been here for who knows how long, in this dusty castle, and the only people he sees are frightened villagers.

~*~

“Well that’s something,” Sasha says when Martin tells her and Tim about the Archivist’s title. 

“Good for you, getting him to open up,” Tim nudges Martin. “We’ve been trying for ages.”

“Any progress with the curses?” Martin asks hopefully. 

Sasha shakes her head sadly. “There’s plenty of things in the books, but nothing about how to break them. Nothing concrete at least.” 

Then Sasha and Tim spend the afternoon showing Martin their collections of books on each curse. Legends and lore, firsthand accounts and reports from provinces Martin’s never heard of before. 

“Might wanna start here.” Tim points Martin to one collection. “Full moon’s coming up in a few days.”

“What’s that mean?” Martin asks. 

“One of the curses definitely transforms him into some kind of beastly shape.” Sasha says. “And it always coincides with the full moon.”

“What do we do?” Martin asks.

“Barricade ourselves in the kitchen for the night. Spend a few days cleaning up the damage afterwards.” Sasha shrugs. 

“He breaks stuff, when he’s like that. Can’t control it. He apologizes all the time, but he’s clearly not in his right mind.” Tim shakes his head. “I’ve found blood a few times. Not that he’ll let us close enough to bandage his wounds.”

Martin’s heart breaks. He rolls up his sleeves and starts to read through every book in the collection. 

~*~

When the night of the full moon comes, Martin has a plan. Tim and Sasha don’t like the plan, but they agree to help. 

“It does line up with a few of the stories,” Sasha says doubtfully. 

“And if we’re wrong? Martin gets eaten!” Tim protests. “I don’t like this. I’m only helping so that when it goes wrong, I can jump in and help stop it.”

“My hero,” Martin drawls.

They don’t intend to spread out, but the shifting corridors and walls suddenly separate them. Martin roams a corridor alone, hearing Sasha’s knife tapping on the walls and Tim’s solid footsteps. 

A growl rumbles from around the corner. Martin freezes. A roiling, unnatural darkness surges forward. 

The moonlight from the windows cuts through the darkness, just enough that Martin can catch a few glimpses. A glowing green eye. A sharp tooth. A clawed hand. A ragged braid of hair. 

“Archivist?” Martin gulps and steadies himself. “Archivist. I’m not afraid.”

“ _Liiiiiiiiar_ …” the voice is ragged and grating, so unlike the Archivist’s usual tone. “I tasssste … your liessssss …”

Martin clenches his fist. “Then come taste me properly.” Then he turns and runs. 

The roar behind him makes his blood run cold and his heart pound in his chest so hard he feels he might pass out. 

Martin runs headlong into Sasha, sending them both sprawling onto the floor. 

“He’s coming!” Martin scrambles up, helping her to her feet. 

“He’s here.” Sasha draws her knife and holds it out.

The darkness reaches their boots. 

Tim stumbles out, panting heavily and leaning on Sasha and Martin for support. His clothes are torn but he’s not bleeding. 

“Sssssso … hungry …” the Archivist groans. 

“What do you want?” Sasha asks. Her hand isn’t shaking but her voice quavers. 

“Ssssstories … liessssss … flesssssssh …” 

“I’ve got a story.” Martin offers, heart in his throat. 

“Tell! Tell!” the Archivist hisses. 

Martin tells the Archivist about the sea captain who offered to take him far away, whose hands were cold as death and whose eyes were like two polished pieces of ice. 

As he speaks, the darkness begins to fade. He sees more of the Archivist’s form. It looks like a man, and a wolf, and a bear, and the newborn calf Martin’s neighbors had birthed last spring. 

“You … tell me a lie,” the Archivist turns to Sasha. His voice sounds steadier now. 

Sasha spins a story about rumors running around the village, rumors spread to ruin families and break families and sour reputations. 

Now the Archivist is crouched on the floor. 

“Here,” Tim offers his hand to the Archivist before Sasha or Martin can stop him. “If it’s flesh you want.”

The Archivist raises his maw up and closes his fangs around Tim’s arm. 

Martin holds his breath. Sasha holds her knife with while knuckled fingers. Tim shuts his eyes. 

The Archivist lets Tim go, unharmed, and groans, settling onto the floor in a deep sleep. Beneath the moonlight, they watch as his form shifts and warps, settling on a man with dark skin and darker hair. No claws, no fangs, no fur. 

“He’s younger than I expected,” Tim says faintly. 

“Can we get him to bed?” Sasha asks. 

Martin squares his shoulders. “I think so.”

It’s an effort, but they carry the Archivist up the tower and into his bed. Reluctant to leave him, the trio settles on the balcony with some blankets. 

“Well, that’s one curse broken.” Martin grins. 

“Annnnnd … twelve to go.” Sasha stares at the sky. 

Tim sighs heavily. “Twelve more times like this.” 

“He’s worth it.” Martin blurts out, before he can stop himself. 

“I wasn’t saying he’s not.” Tim protests. “I love him too, you know?”

“I … I’m not sure.” Sasha frowns. 

“What, about breaking the curses?” Martin is aghast. 

“No, of course that! We’ll break all the curses. I just mean … love.” Sasha shrugs. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that. For anyone. It’s … something, with you two, and him, I do feel something. But I don’t think it’s love?” 

“If that’s good enough for you, that’s good enough for me.” Tim promises. 

Martin’s confused, but decides now isn’t the time to say so. “Of course.” 

Sasha hugs them both, tighter than is comfortable. 

The three of them look up at the stars together and think about twelve more curses.


End file.
